Food: Cheers and Jeers

Cheers to Swiss Chard, and to the new cafeteria, in general.

Some time ago, the Lodge changed their food providers, and I must say there's a distinct raise in quality amongst the food. And the prices ain't bad, to boot.

Today they offered Swiss Chard, which I had never eaten before. But I like leafy green things that aren't iceberg lettuce, so I decided to Year of Yes it. And it was pretty good! Tasted basically the same as broccoli rabe or spinach. And I'm pretty sure eating this will add valuable months to my lifespan.

Jeers to Lula's Sweet Apothecary, a vegan ice cream parlor that Sarah, Lynn and I had planned to visit before seeing Death Note II.

Not that I have anything against vegan ice cream (it tastes terrific), but they get a jeer for this:


Closed?! Damn it! That's just unacceptable (barring, of course, family emergencies or the like). Doesn't Lula know that the best way to disappoint Kirks who want ice cream is to close down the ice cream parlor on the specific day they're gonna get it?

Actually, the best way to disappoint Kirks is to have them excitedly rush up to the storefront, see that it's closed, press their faces sadly against the window, read all the varieties of ice cream they will not get to choose, wonder how they're gonna kill an hour before seeing the movie, decide to go to Cold Stone Creamery to get one of those kick-ass Cake 'n' Shake milkshakes (that have real pieces of yellow cake in them), then forget where the nearest Cold Stone Creamery is, never find it, go see if Dinosaur Hill has re-opened yet, see that it hasn't, sigh heavily, get in a crappy mood, try to find decent discount clothes at the Urban Outfitters on 2nd Ave., don't find shit, then arrive late for the movie so they have to sit in a sucky area.

At least I can now skip all that nonsense and look up 1) that Dinosaur Hill is still closed and 2) where Cold Stone is (it's on Astor Place, that's right, it's near where Barnes & Noble used to be. That's why I wouldn't have been able to find it, I thought it was on 2nd Ave. somewhere).

A Surefire Cure for a Cold

I'm healing, slowly but surely. Last night seems to be the worst of it.

And I'm pretty amazed that Sarah was able to move so much furniture and get settled into the new apartment while waylaid with this cold. This proves she's got a higher Constitution than me.

Almost everyone I know is sick, and everyone's got their own cold remedies, but this one worked really well for me.

My supervisor came over and asked me if I'd ever heard of the old Internet meme, "How is babby formed?"

I had not, so she directed me to that site. Watching it 10 times in a row, laughing very hard and silently, really cleared out my head and lungs.

But, I suspect it's like Brigadoon, in that it only works if you've never seen it before.

Four Previews of Upcoming Posts

I apologize for the lack of updates, but (1) moving into a new apartment will do that for you. Even simply moving four blocks in Astoria isn't cheap or easy or quick. Moving sucks!

During my absence, I also (2) celebrated my birthday with my new favorite dessert, sticky toffee pudding. It's delicious!



And then yesterday I (3) ordered my plane tickets for Thanksgiving... looks like Sarah and I are going to Disney World! My first time back in almost eight years, whoa!

And finally, (4) I caught a cold. It sucks!

Flansburgh and Linnell's Miracle Elixir

I'm cured, and I owe it all to Flansburgh and Linnell's Miracle Elixir! And rest assured, this is no ordinary tantimonious tonic, but a magical medicine of music and melody!

Because, really, I'm talking about They Might Be Giants and their concert last night at Le Poisson Rouge.

Yesterday I finally decided that I was done with being sick and tired, and if my wisdom teeth weren't gonna heal, eff it, I'd just return to my regular life and let them catch up. Because, seriously, a week and a half of only oatmeal and milkshakes gets to you.

So I bought some solid food and tried to eat it. I never realized that a Subway sandwich was so tall. Apparently I can't open my mouth as wide as I used to, but I was triumphant in my quest.

A minor, minor victory, and I wish that I could say it was the best sub I've ever had, or it was this delectable return to solid foods, but it was just all right.

Then, because I didn't want to spend another night cooped up indoors, I decided to see the TMBG concert.

And at first I regretted it. I felt a little woozy on painkillers, standing in place waiting for the show to start was hard, and I just really wanted to rest, but when John and John came on stage... seriously, I was cured.

It was like a blast of energy from the sun (which is not a mass of incandescent gas, actually, but a miasma of incandescent plasma) and boom, Kirk was back.

I bopped and enjoyed a good 90-minute set where they played at least one song from every one of their albums. And let me tell you, They Might Be Giants puts on a great show. I've seen them easily a dozen times since moving to New York, and I have to say this was one of my favorite concerts. Three or four encores! And they played "Cowtown" and "I Hit My Head," neither of which I'd heard live before.

This was probably my favorite Year of Yes moment so far.

The Seventh Plague...

This morning I woke up to discover my upper body was covered in red bumps.


What the frack?! First wisdom teeth, then infection, now a rash? What next, frogs and locusts?

My first two thoughts were bedbugs (my biggest NYC-related fear, more than crime or terrorist attack, is getting bedbugs) or chicken pox (never had 'em, so when they come, it'll be terrible), but I didn't feel itchy or achey, so, seriously, what the frack?

When my doctor was finally able to see me, she figured it out in about a minute: allergic reaction to penicillin.

Which, truth be told, isn't so bad. A little confusing, because I only got the rash after I stopped taking antibiotics, but it's more of a harmless oddity when compared to the never-ending pain in my jaw.

She had some bad news, though: the rash was still in its early stages, and if it got worse and spread to my throat (ugh), I'd have difficulty breathing and should go to the emergency room ASAP to prevent death.

I guess when you've gotta heighten the ordeal, you go from pain to more pain to death, right? Thankfully, though, I've been OK... so far, and the rash has spread to my legs instead of my precious, precious insides.

But now I'm dreading falling asleep and waking up to the next plague.

Mending... I Think.

Yesterday I went to the dentist, and it seems I do have an infection. But, he explained, there wasn't anything he could really do about it, since I'm still on antibiotics and on painkillers. Hopefully they'll take care of it, and if not, then they'll try something else.

I'm not surprised by the unhelpfulness of this advice - he's the third dentist to look at me, so wasn't fully briefed. At first he thought I had been hit with a hockey puck, as a matter of fact.

I left with the understanding that I'd return for a follow-up appointment sometime soon, I think in the next two days (when my antibiotics run out).

Tried to go to work, but didn't last long. I started to get super nauseous, and had to leave. Very unfortunate, because I ended up having to cancel a job interview.

One piece of good news, though... they moved back our final day to "some time in October." Even though that's pretty darn vague, every little bit helps.

I spent most of yesterday in misery, stayed home from work today, and then woke up around noon feeling... better. Like my fever has broken. I still hurt, I'm still requiring painkillers every couple of hours, but I feel like my jaw has mended and my teeth are moving back into place.

The stitches finally came out of my mouth, it was weird having this little string in there. I wanted to rip it out, but wisely resisted that temptation.

I'm supposed to direct a rehearsal tonight and have a show later, but doubt I'll be able to do either.

I really hope this is my final post on the matter. Wisdom teeth suck.

Re: Ugh.

After reading that last entry, two people advised I call my dentist's emergency number, so I decided to listen to them. As Dave said, an infection by one's windpipe is a serious matter.

The doc didn't really know what to tell me - I'm already taking painkillers and antibiotics (forgot to mention the latter in previous entries, so it probably seemed like I was more likely to get an infection), and he advised I call the office in the morning and get in there some time tomorrow.

That's what I'll do, then. Also, tomorrow I have a job interview, so I'm banking on it being an absolutely terrific Monday for me.

Ugh.

I don't know if my wisdom teeth are getting better. In fact, I think they're getting worse.

My jaw feels like I just got punched really hard, and it only goes away when I've taken a painkiller. It looks normal, but it feels kind of lumpy, like I have swollen lymph nodes or something.

I'm afraid it's infected, but won't be able to do anything about it until tomorrow, when I can call the dentist. And if it IS infected, I hope they do something about it by Thursday, otherwise, I'm pretty screwed.

Opening my mouth hurts, so eating (still on oatmeal, pudding and juice) is difficult and painful. I can't take my pills until after I've eaten, so it's a catch-22.

I continue to hate everything.

Addendum...

Shortly after posting last night's entry, I started to feel super nauseous, don't know if it was because of the antibiotics or if the bloody gauze was finally getting the better of me.

I willed myself to not throw up (a special power I have - I can stop it by doing multiplication problems in my head), and then stumbled off to bed.

This morning I woke up with the grossest mouth I've ever had, but decided it was time to eat. I haven't eaten anything since about 2 p.m. yesterday, and that was just soup and orange juice.

And so now I have breakfast. It sucks. I have orange juice, which is pretty easy, and I have oatmeal, which is pretty hard. I don't want the food to touch my healing wounds and infect them or anything, so it's hard sliding it straight down my throat. And I can't tell if I'm still bleeding or not.

It also sucks because I don't really get to savor the taste of these delicious Quaker Oats, the oatmeal's gotta go straight for my empty chasm of a stomach.

But at least for dessert I get some painkillers... and maybe some pudding.

This is how I look and feel this morning, right down to what I'm wearing:

I Got My Wisdom Teeth Removed and All I Got Was This Lousy Bloody Wisdom Tooth

The stories people told me about wisdom teeth have run the gamut from it being God-awful torture to being no biggie, so I had no idea what to expect. Also, my body is weirdly resilient to a lot of injury, but I also have a low pain threshold and a strong aversion to blood. Would I bounce back immediately, or would I scream and faint like a cartoon dowager?

With Jen Mac patiently waiting for me in the waiting room, I ventured forth to meet my destiny.

And you know what? It sucked.

I decided to splurge on the nitrous oxide, not just because of the obvious reasons, but because I was really interested in experiencing it. You know, scientific observation and all that. Most people tell me the gas makes them forget everything, then are ridiculously incoherent for X amount of time afterward. And I totally wanted to get in on that.

Now I'm not sure what's up with my body chemistry, but either the gas tanks weren't working properly or I'm immune, because I never felt any different. Throughout the entire procedure (about 75 minutes), I felt totally in my right mind. Not even mildly buzzed or anything. I even questioned them afterward, like, "Are you SURE those tanks were set up properly?"

As for the procedure itself, it wasn't so bad. The dentist decided to leave one in because it isn't hurting anybody and is dangerously close to a nerve. The two on top were easy-breezy-Cover Girl, they said it only took about two minutes to remove both of them.

That part is the only reason I think the gas might have worked - I remember them putting little clamps or something on my teeth, but I have no memory whatsoever of them removing my uppers.

The bulk of my time in the chair was spent on Mr. Lower Right, the problem child that was impacted and pretty much entirely horizontal. They worked on that asshole for about an hour, and had to smash him up and extract him, piece by piece.

And this is where it was dreadful. Not only was it boring, but it hurt! They say it was because of the proximity to the nerve, but man, you know what sucks? Feeling something drill into your jaw.

Worse than the pain was the feeling of blood spurting in my mouth. I was all numbed up, so thankfully I couldn't taste it, but I knew what it was, and that grossed me the eff out. Typing this now, with a mouthful of bloody gauze, I get nauseous. And the thought of me constantly swallowing a spit/blood combo for the next many hours is just as awful.

And then there was the boredom. I thought the dentist was pretty mean to the assistant, and people just walked in and asked questions. It was all very casual. Which I guess is good, it means this wasn't a tricky procedure, but at the same time, let the man work. There were times I wished I had my phone with me so I could text people about how shitty of a time I was having (what a horrible text to receive), or maybe play Mr. Do's Castle.

But I exited the surgery totally coherent, totally fine. They let me keep one of the uppers (the other one was too disgusting, they said), but both of 'em were in pretty sorry shape. Decayed and stuff, which I don't understand, since they were under the gum. This surprised the assistant, too (she's new). I wish I could post a picture, but I already accidentally ate the damn thing.

Turns out I didn't need Jen Mac to drag me home, I felt totally normal, just with a numb jaw. So home I went, bought a lot of soft foods (I hope my roommate likes pudding, because I accidentally bought twice as much as I planned), took a Vicodin, and continued calling places about apartments.

Sarah came over soon after, and although I couldn't eat (I refuse to eat until my mouth is no longer bloody), I got to at least smell the pizza she made. It was good.

Then, as the Novocaine died, my jaw felt worse and worse until I was just about ready to cry, because it's all so tedious. My jaw is tired, I'm sick of holding it open to fit around this damn gauze, it aches constantly, and there's always blood, always blood.

The Vicodin, like the nitrous oxide, had zero effect... at first. Later, after taking a stronger dosage (is that illegal?), my jaw started returning to normal and I finally felt well enough to write this entry.

And that's, I say for the last time, the tooth!

Kirk Loses 4 Wisdom (Teeth)

September is a month chock full of ch-ch-ch-changes. There's losing my job (oh, yes, and they moved our final day up to September 25th), looking for an apartment with Sarah, buying Carcassonne, and let's not forget that oral surgery.

When last I blogged about it, it didn't seem likely that I'd be able to get these pesky wisdom teeth removed. I had that tentative appointment for October 1st, but it was mostly dependent on whether or not my benefits would extend past my last day of work. Tooth be told, I wasn't expecting it to happen.

But everything changed today when the dentist office called and said they could move my appointment up to tomorrow.

TOMORROW?

That's pretty soon, and not much time to plan/ready myself (surgery scares me), but you gotta do what you gotta do. So I'm getting it done tomorrow.

This wouldn't be possible without some wonderful people, like my understanding supervisor, who is letting me take two vacation days on such short notice, and Jen Mac, who's agreed to help haul my drugged-out, bloody-mouthed self home afterward.

So that's it. The next time I post I'll be minus four wisdom teeth. I'll try and blog while still under the influence of anesthesia, that could be interesting.

And That's the Tooth!

I was supposed to get my wisdom teeth taken out this morning, but due to a family emergency on the oral surgeon's part, it got canceled.

And that ain't good.

We're getting laid off around the end of the month, and that means an end to my insurance. There's no way I can afford this surgery without coverage, so I really wanted to get these bastards removed in September.

I just called the dentist office, asked if I could maybe get an earlier date with the other surgeon, and they said it can be done on October 1st... which is the alleged day of the layoffs.

So it'll be tricky, tricky, tricky, timing-wise... I hope I can pull it off.

Tooth or Consequences

My parents were never very concerned with dental health, and they only took my brother and me to the dentist a few times. And that only got started when my brother chipped his tooth in the swimming pool. He ended up getting a root canal, we both got a bunch of fillings, and that was that. I was probably in 3rd grade at the time. We never went again.

Flash forward to post-college, and I'm about to go off my parents' insurance. I decide to see a dentist, but only end up getting a cleaning and x-rays. They tell me I have wisdom teeth, and although I don't need to get them removed right away, I should probably do it within the next ten years. "Plenty of time," I think.

Six years later, I'm working for a paparazzi company in New York City and finally have health insurance of my own. I see a dentist, get a cleaning and x-rays, get two white fillings that were supposed to be cheap, but ended up being really expensive, get pissed off and never go back.

And now, the Year of Yes. With my current employment set to end in October, I decided I better take advantage of this health insurance and do what I gotta do. That includes the dentist. After just a handful of visits in my entire life, this week I'm going three times. Three times?!

On Monday I got a cleaning and some x-rays (and was told that one of my wisdom teeth is "one unhappy tooth"), and the cleaning was actually more painful than any I remember. But I stoically made it through.

Yesterday I got four fillings (four fillings?!), and it was much more pleasant than the cleaning. I actually don't mind the dentist, unlike the doctor. I don't find the Novocaine injections to be painful or scary, and I think it's interesting to have so many foreign objects in my mouth. Plus, Dr. Handler has one of the best demeanors I've ever encountered. It was like a challenge, she said it might be hard to keep my mouth open for that long, but I did it.

Anyway, tomorrow I go back for the wisdom teeth consultation, and I'll probably set up a date for surgery. This is the big one, the scary one. Everyone with a wisdom teeth story says it's a bad experience, and requires recuperation and angst. But I want to get them removed before I lose my insurance, so hopefully it'll get done in September.

And that's the story of my teeth. I'll end with a famous proverb and then a joke, because I like wordplay.

"Be true to your teeth, or they will be false to you."

That is the proverb.

Q. What time do you go to the dentist?
A. Tooth-hurty (2:30).

That is the joke.

I Heart RPGs More Than Yoga

Monday night is my Yoga class, but it's also the night my RPG group has decided to game. I can't do both, so which one wins?

This question isn't even worth asking - I'd rather play a role-playing game (exercise for my mind and imagination) than do Yoga (which exercises the body and, they say, the spirit) any day of the week. It's just more interesting.

We started a new game (and from here the rest of this entry's gonna get a bit... technical, so be warned), a d20 Modern campaign set in the late 1920s, a fine period for pulp horror and mystery. This is the Age of Lovecraft, after all.

When creating a PC (player character), I usually pick someone who will help round out the group - I'd rather choose last, so I see what we need, than go first and say, "I wanna play a fighter."

Not sure why I'm like this, maybe I'm an indecisive Libra and this makes it easier, or maybe I'm just a smart (yet meta) player who realizes the importance of a cohesive group. The A-Team doesn't need two B.A. Baracuses, you know?

The other PCs would be...

- A Scientist/Gadgeteer (Intelligence)
- A Boxer (Stremf)
- A Starbuck-like Aviatrix/Adventurer (Dexterity? Tough?)
- And a Rich, Spoiled, Athletic Dilettante (Stremf/Dex Combo?)

I figured the best complement to this group would be someone with good observation skills like a detective (Wisdom) or a face man (Charisma).

Due to the nature of the game, I decided to play one of my old favorites, that of a psychic. This might've been influenced by my recent reading up on Thomas Carnacki, who definitely would fall into the detective category. Yet whenever I hear the word psychic, I immediately think of our dear departed friend Criswell, who certainly belongs in the latter.

What to choose, what to choose? I wish I had written about this earlier, as it might've led me to a different conclusion. Hours before the first game, I was still agonizing over which path to take... and I went with Charisma.

(Really, the tipping point was which Prestige class I wanted... I wanted to be a Mesmerist over a Spiritualist, and the best way to get there was through Charisma. Technical!)

But very early on in the first game, I thought, "Whoa, that was a mistake," as those detective skills would certainly come in handy, while skills of diplomacy and charm, maybe not so much.

You can't sweet-talk your way past werewolves. Also, my character has absolutely no fighting skills, which come in handy when you're fighting werewolves.

And as a player, I'm much more in tune with finding clues than in dealing with people. And despite being a "performer," I always get vaguely uncomfortable acting around the gaming table.

Still, after two sessions, I'm pretty pleased with the Great Calveri. I like the idea of someone who wants to look for clues but is absolutely horrible at it. And his skills of deception have certainly made things easier once or twice.

He just needs to learn how to fire a gun or something.

Yoga Mondays ARE Back.

I just dropped off my check.

Sarah had expressed interest in taking it this time around, but I didn't want that to let that affect my decision. Like, I didn't wanna sign up just because she was, it'd be too much like a crutch.

If I'm gonna do yoga, I have to be willing to do it alone.

So I decided, yeah, I'll sign up again, why not? And it turns out she signed up too, so hopefully Sarah will help me remember to bring my equivalent of yoga pants every Monday.

Year of Pants!

Yoga Mondays are Back! (Maybe)

My job is offering another set of Yoga classes starting next Monday. At first, I was like, "Eff that," since the last session was a dismal failure (I only went to two out of seven classes), but that's sort of a good reason to sign up again.

Especially since, as the email states, I "want to reduce stress, tone [my] muscles, become stronger, and improve [my] overall health wellness."

Also, the classes run through the dog days of summer, and the longer I can stay in this highly air conditioned office, the better.

I have three days to think about it, so we'll see.

Yoga: Fail.

Once again, I forgot my pants.

I think this might have been the final week of class, too.

Veggie Veggie Fruit Fruit

I went to the Veggie Pride Parade on Sunday.

I'm a huge sucker for parades, especially when people are in costumes. Throw in some free snacks and a wedding between an anthropomorphic carrot and pea pod, and I'm in Heaven.

Sadly, the wedding was a drizzly, low-key ceremony (I must have been expecting dancing and a procession and... to be honest, I don't know what I was expecting), and I only got solo camera shots of the bride and groom.





The snacks were hit or miss... a Vegan Slim Jim (how can such a thing exist?) called Primal Stick, which was strange and enjoyable, and this raw (or "living," as they call it, I guess) energy bar that was supposed to taste like chocolate chip cookie dough but tasted like an energy bar. I took one bite and gave the rest of it to Sarah, she said she could taste the cookie dough, but I don't know what she's talking about.

For me, the most interesting thing to come out of the Year of Yes is that I'm thinking more about healthy eating, and the possible benefits of vegetarianism. Or part-time vegeterianism, if such a thing exists.

But thinking isn't doing. I'm like those cops on last week's episode of Top Chef: Chicago. I'm probably not gonna eat healthy unless it's put under my nose and it's just as delicious as Chocolate Peanut Butter Pops, and that's the problem.

I wish someone would do something about this, but the only one who will is me. What a dilemma!

At the very least, though, I'm making small changes. After the parade, I met up with Lynn for lunch at a vegetarian Thai restaurant, and that was pretty delicious. And last week, I cooked Sarah a vegan dinner of Ginger Peanut Soba Noodles (here's a suggestion: use a lot less soy sauce, as this was salty as crap). And I don't think I'll ever go back to regular milk.

Also, after an interesting food conversation last night, I'm gonna cut soda from my diet for a while (I currently drink one root beer a day at lunch, but I can substitute it for juice, which is nature's root beer).

But on the other hand, I ate two donuts before the parade. Maybe two and a half, I forget.

I wish nutrition was as simple as the Kitchen Kabaret. Those guys made it seem so easy.

Yoga? More Like "No-ga."

It's really hard to get psyched about this evening's yoga session.

I missed last week due to being sick, and with this crappy weather and the fact that I went to bed super-late last night, I kinda just want to go home.

In short, I've got a bucketful of reasons to say No, so it'll take some real will power to say Yes.

We'll see how I hold up by 5:30 p.m.

I feel that by posting this, it'll force me to go to class, lest I fail in the eyes of the blogfolk.

THAT'S YOU.

I Do Yoga

My job occasionally offers yoga classes, and this being the Year of Yes, I signed up for the current session. It's once a week for seven weeks, and yesterday was our first class.

Yoga!

I've only done it once, way back in the day when I belonged to the Good Gym (as opposed to when I belonged to the Crappy Gym), and, unknown to me, it was the hot room version. I remember it being a sucky time. I had no idea what to do and had to keep looking at other people, my glasses kept sliding off my face, and I couldn't figure out why heat was on. I only went once.

Yesterday was a different experience, thankfully. There were about four or five beginners in the class (with maybe 15 people total), and I didn't feel too much like a n00b. I still had to look at my neighbors on occasion to figure things out, but since other people were doing the same thing, I didn't really feel like a Goofus.

So... did I like Yoga class? Yes, I think so.

I really hate exercising on my own (it's so damn boring), so it's nice that this is in a class setting. Being in a group prevents me from getting bored and wandering off.

The session itself felt nice. My legs were straining at some points, which surprised me - I'd always thought my legs were my strongest muscles (other than my brains), but I enjoyed it. I actually felt good afterward, so that's a plus. That's what exercise is all about, as far as I'm concerned.

Yoga is a weird type of exercise, though... I guess it's kind of conditioning muscles, right? But it doesn't feel like what I'd consider traditional exercise. Which is fine, because I hate getting sweaty.

It's like when I took Pilates because a friend's friend was getting her certification and needed students to practice on or something. It was interesting, but I didn't feel like I'd been "worked out" afterward and didn't do it enough to see any results. Still, I'm glad I did it.

Another thing I like about Yoga: I get to come up with sentences that use the words "Yoda" and "Yoga," such as "I hope Yoda teaches the Yoga class." This amuses me to no end, because I am ten years old.

I fear one class a week isn't gonna make a difference on my life, but I'm reluctant to join a gym or take a class that I can't walk to from my apartment (something about being sweaty and getting on the subway bothers me).

So I like it so far, and even if it doesn't make me as fit as a fiddle, it'll hopefully be interesting.

Also, after writing this I realized that it's an alarmingly ignorant post, so I did a Wiki search on Yoga as Exercise, and read that it's "a combination of breathing exercises, physical postures, and meditation."

I like that.

It sounds nice and is something that would be up my alley. I have terrible posture and would like to fix it, it doesn't sound too exercise-y. It just seems nice.

Oh, well, six more weeks. We'll see how it turns out.